Mischief Mastered
by fringeperson
Summary: Oneshot companion piece to Mischief Managed, detailing Loki's side of things a little more, and where Dumbledore was - or wasn't, as the case may be - and why. Complete, don't own. Please read Mischief Managed first.


~Beginning of First Year~

"Professor Loki," Dumbledore began as he took a chair opposite his new Runes professor in said professor's office. "Would you please explain to me why you felt it necessary to take young Harry from Hagrid's care?"

"Albus," Loki returned shortly. "Would _you_ care to tell _me_ why you have such an interest in the boy?"

"I'm very sorry -"

"No," Loki cut the old man off as he set down his tea. "No, you're not. Fortunately, you don't _need_ to tell me. You seem to have already forgotten who, and what, I am. Senile little goat that you are."

Albus' cheeks pinked over his grey beard.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, Albus Dumbledore," Loki said slowly, perfectly enunciating each word that he spoke. "If you should dare to directly interfere with that boy's life again, I will feel no remorse in making that particular epithet over your person a very literal description."

~First Year Christmas Holidays~

"He's not staying here over the break?" Albus exclaimed in surprise when Minerva read out the list for Gryffindor.

"No," Minerva stated simply.

"But -!" Albus tried to object.

"Albus," Loki cautioned the man. "The boy has the means and, so far as I saw when I had the pleasure of spending time with him on the first of August, a sensible mind. I am quite sure he will be just fine, and return to Hogwarts hale and healthy in the New Year. Do not make me repeat myself Albus. Leave the boy be."

Albus swallowed the lemon drop that he'd been keeping by his rear left molar.

"Now, in the unlikely event of an emergency for which I am needed, I will be in Brazil. There's... a red-head I need to check on," Loki said with a vague hint of a smile.

Barton really had told him everything, certainly more than Loki had ever let on to Romanov when she came demanding answers, and he meant to pay some penitence to the Avengers by watching over them now, in the years prior to their formation.

~Summer Holidays Between First and Second Year~

"He needs to go back to his relatives!" Albus stated firmly.

"He needs to be kept out of an abusive environment," Loki countered blandly, and turned the page of the newspaper he was reading. It was an American one, and it was reporting that a certain playboy billionaire had gone missing in Afghanistan. "I spent all of one day with him, and I could tell he was abused within five minutes. If you looked at the boy and saw a _person_, rather than a _weapon against evil_, then maybe you'd see it too. Useless codger."

"He is needed!" Albus insisted.

"Goat," Loki intoned, and let green magical fire dance around the fingertips of the hand he had raised from his paper.

Albus sensibly beat a hasty retreat before he could be transfigured – though horns had already sprouted on his head.

Loki sighed, and turned the page of his paper. Well, it looked like Afghanistan was where he was going next. He wouldn't want for the very rich narcissist to expire in the desert before he could become the Man of Iron.

~Second Year Christmas~

"Why won't he stay _here_?" Albus wailed sadly.

Loki blinked at the complaining headmaster. Why had he signed on to subject himself to such a fool? Hadn't he had enough of those in Asgard?

"Because he is a bright boy with friends," Loki stated plainly. "And normal children in such a situation tend to want to spend holidays with said friends. Occasionally. Or so my therapist said when I spoke to him of my childhood, anyway."

As for him, he had a scientist to watch over. Make sure he reached Brazil. Not that he'd still be there the next time Loki went to check on the man, he knew.

~Summer Holidays Between Second and Third Year~

"With Sirius Black on the loose, Harry -" Albus began.

"Oh _do_ shut up," Loki snapped at the man. "You know perfectly well that the only people in any danger from Sirius are Peter Pettigrew for still being alive, Barty Crouch for throwing him in a cell without a trial, and your own damn fool self for letting it happen. Sirius was a good worshipper to me, Albus Dumbledore. I have guarded him through his interment. He is as sane as he was when he went in. Considering who we're talking about though, I suppose that's not saying much."

Albus whimpered sadly. He knew taking a Norse deity on staff would be good for the students, but he hadn't realised quite how bad for _him_ it might turn out to be.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to unpack and get changed. The climate in Guatemala is really quite different to a draughty castle in Scotland."

~Third Year Christmas Holidays~

"If you say a single thing to me about Harry spending the holidays with his godfather, then I won't turn you into a goat, I'll turn you into a turkey and give you to the House Elves to be roasted for Christmas dinner," Loki said, not looking up from his packing, when Albus entered his office.

Silently, the headmaster slunk back out again.

Loki sighed in grateful relief, and double-checked his luggage. It wouldn't matter all that much if he forgot something. He was only going to check up on the Man of Iron in Monte Carlo.

~Summer Holidays Between Third and Fourth Year~

"At least when he was with Sirius, Harry was forming further attachments to the wizarding world," Albus grumbled. "But now he's off to who-knows-where again."

"Yes," Loki confirmed uncaringly as he packed the sorts of clothes that he (and not someone like his brother, or any of the other Aesir) would wear to visit Jotunheim. Being a Frost Giant certainly came in handy when visiting places like Russia. "And you have politicians to wrangle. I'm sure the Quidditch World Cup, as well as preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, will keep you just as busy as everybody else in the English Ministry. Leave the boy alone, Albus."

~Fourth Year, Halloween Night~

"I don't see why you're so upset, Albus," Loki stated calmly when the headmaster barged into his office. "This competition is about improving international relations, not _testing Harry_. Leave. Before I turn you so thoroughly into a goat that the combined skills of Minerva and yourself will _not_ be able to reverse the transfiguration this time. And tell your smelly, peg-legged friend to stay well clear of me. I will not be held responsible for whatever I turn him into if he comes within ten feet of my person again. Do not forget, Albus Dumbledore, I am not what you are."

Albus swallowed tensely and backed out of Loki's office.

~Summer Holidays Between Fourth and Fifth Year~

Loki sighed as he packed his bags for the New Mexico desert. The time was coming closer. A very polite knock sounded from his office door.

"Come," Loki permitted.

"Loki," Albus said as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. "With these latest set of circumstances, and knowing how much young Harry looks up to you, I was wondering -"

"It's the holidays, Albus," Loki cut in frankly. "What he does in his holidays is neither your business, nor mine."

He declined to say that he'd accidentally run into Harry several times during said holidays over the years.

"But with Voldemort returned, and the prophecy -" Albus tried.

"A false prophecy given by a woman desperate for any job and who had drunk too much sherry," Loki snapped back. "Do not force a _child_ to clean up a mess that _you_ have made," he instructed darkly. "You've lived long enough, Albus Dumbledore. I suggest _you_ try dying for the cause instead. If you are so concerned about the soul vessels that Tom Riddle made, about the piece that _was_ in Harry, before the Goblins removed it on the first of August, nineteen-ninety-one, then you probably should have done more than sit on your hands for the past fifteen years."

Albus paled.

Loki sneered. It was the sort of sneer that Snape stove to achieve – the kind that made the person being sneered at wet themselves.

~Fifth Year Christmas Holidays~

"He's gone," Albus moaned into his hands. "Gone."

"You really are pathetic," Loki scolded the man, and sighed. "There's one in Sirius' kitchen, stolen from a hiding place in a cave by his brother. There's one in the Lestrange vault. There's one in a room here that the elves know as the 'come and go room', ask them about it. I have other places to be. I destroyed one back in ninety-two – that diary, you may recall – and as I said last year, the one that was dormant in the scar tissue on Harry's head was taken care of by the Goblins back in ninety-one. Right now, Tom is splitting his soul one last time, putting a bit of it in his familiar, the snake Nagini. I suggest you have Snape force-feed her a poisoned rat or some such."

Albus looked up, stunned.

"You can't leave the society the way it is though," Loki warned as he returned to his packing. He needed to make a stop-over in the frozen arctic, and then it was down to India to check on a certain doctor. "Or you'll just have another one, like him or worse, in a couple of decades."

Allfather, he was tempted to go on a cleansing rampage himself. Midgard would be a better place for the loss of Madame Delores Jane Umbridge.

~Summer Holidays Following Fifth Year~

"No, I will not go after him. Ask me again and I will turn you into a goat."

~Christmas Holidays of What Would Have Been Harry's Sixth Year~

"You really want to be a goat, don't you? Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

~Summer Holidays Following What Would Have Been Harry's Sixth Year~

"I swear, I will make it permanent next time."

~Christmas Holidays of What Would Have Been Harry's Seventh Year~

Minerva frowned at the meal before her. "Why is goat being served for Christmas dinner?" she asked. "Not that it isn't wonderful... And where ever is Albus?"

Loki said nothing, preferring to carve into the meat and enjoy the fine work of the castle's house elves.

~Summer Holidays Following What Would Have Been Harry's Seventh Year~

"You're leaving us?" Minerva queried. "Now? When we need everyone we can get to help re-build?"

"Yes," Loki said plainly as he packed up his things. "There are things... in my past. The time has come for me to face them. I've got a recommendation for which of the past students I have taught would be best to replace me, if they care to," he added, and offered Minerva a parchment from his desk.

Minerva sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to handle everything now..." she admitted.

"Hire more staff," Loki suggested flatly. "And delegate."

~Many Years Later~

"You've got to see Fred and George's shop, Dad," Harry said with a grin that totally belayed the slight reddnes around his eyes from when he'd cried upon their reunion (and both men would admit to those tears without shame). "It's right up your ally. They've even got a small shrine dedicated to you in the back. They make offerings all the time, and I've even made a few over the years."

Loki laughed, though his own face was still a little blotchy from his own tears earlier.

"I know," he admitted happily as he let Harry lead him down Diagon Alley, a grown man now, one that he knew James Potter would be proud of – Loki certainly was, and he wasn't actually related to the boy in any way but choice. "They really helped to sustain me through my punishment in Asgard, and your quiet prayers were a great comfort as well."

Harry blushed a little. "Yeah, well, I know you're more technically a god than an actual one, but... well," he gave up, embarrassed but pleased.

"All the same, I heard you, and I was always comforted by your words," Loki assured the man who looked (embarrassingly enough) like a more masculine version of Loki himself. "Now show me this shop. I have heard so much about it, and had offerings from it, but I have yet to see it in all its glory."

Harry grinned and pointed to the shop.

Loki couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Definitely their sort of flair," he quipped as he fought (and failed) to keep a straight face as he took in the bright orange and utterly outrageous frontage.

Harry pushed the door open.

"Oi Gred! Forge! Look who's finally back among us mere mortals!" Harry called out, not letting go of his father-figure for even an instant.

Two well-dressed red-heads emerged from among different sets of shelves, and identical grins lit up their still-cheeky faces.

"Professor Loki, your godship!" they chorused worshipfully. Or as worshipful as they ever got, anyway.

~The End~


End file.
